Burrowing for a Life Worth Living
by Emiliya Wolfe
Summary: With all of these new additions, the Weasleys need a new home. Collection of one-shots written for the "Build a Burrow" challenge at the Golden Snitch; because nothing feels quite like home like the Burrow. Loosely connected chapters about the extended Weasley family, including Harry, Hermione and the Prewitts. Special thanks to summersaults16 who designed the cover photo.
1. A Day Without Magic

**Written for the Golden Snitch "Build a Burrow" challenge. Thanks to summersaults16 for the lovely cover photo!**

 **Tools: 11. Wand: write about a pureblood made to go without their wand for a day.**

* * *

'Ron, it's just for one day,' Hermione reassured her boyfriend, no, fiancé, by placing a hand on his cheek.

'A lot can happen in a day,' Ron replied, the light dimming in his eyes as he was overcome by past memories.

Hermione put a hand on her fiancé's other cheek, turning his head and leaning in to touch his forehead with her own. She searched out his gaze with her own.

'The war is over, Ron,' she said softly. 'Nothing will happen, I promise. It's just to remove the temptation of magic. I can always call Harry if there's a problem; he promised he'd keep his schedule free just in case.'

'So you admit that something _could_ happen?' Ron caught onto the implication within her words.

Hermione pursed her lips, cocking her head to the side and breathing deeply out of her nose.

'Fine, fine,' Ron gave a sigh. He placed his wand inside his bedside cabinet, turning the key in the lock and pocketing it in one swift movement. 'I suppose I can go without magic just this once.

'Thank you,' Hermione replied, accentuating the syllables to show how much she meant them.

She checked over his Muggle clothing one last time, straightening the collar of his polo shirt. She laid her hands flat on his chest and gave him a quick kiss before opening the door.

'For luck,' she said by way of explanation.

Ron shook his head grimly and followed her out of their flat.

* * *

'Hermione!' Mrs Granger beamed, engulfing her only daughter in a bear hug.

'Mum,' Hermione greeted warmly, enjoying the hug.

It took Hermione two days after the Battle of Hogwarts to look for her parents. Two weeks to find them in Australia. And two years to find out how to lift her Memory Charm without damaging their intellect. Now, another two years later, her parents had mostly forgiven her, though they remained terrified of magic and the evil it had wrought.

'And you must be Ron,' Mrs Granger welcomed the redhead with a handshake. 'Our Hermione has told us so much about you. I'm glad to finally meet you.'

'Yeah, um…I'm sorry I kept refusing before. Auror training and all that,' Ron said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head.

His hand went automatically to his pocket, the result of seven years of fear and three years of survival training after that, but his wand was not there. He almost started to panic, before remembering his promise to Hermione earlier that day.

'Ah yes, Aurors,' Mrs Granger frowned for a few moments before her face cleared. 'That's some kind of wizard policeman, isn't it?'

'In a way,' Hermione replied, motioning for Ron to step through the front door. 'Where's Dad?'

'In the kitchen,' Mrs Granger explained. 'He couldn't very well let your boyfriend leave without one of his traditional Sunday roasts now, could he?'

Hermione let out a laugh, and Ron felt himself relax a little. The Grangers weren't so different from his own family, though Hermione had to explain what a dentist was at least four times in the car.

 _I'm going to have to spend a lot more time with Dad,_ he realised, noticing all of the unfamiliar objects in the room. He wasn't sure he liked being somewhere so…foreign.

Of course, he recognised the fellytone and the moving picture box - they were apparently staple items in a Muggle home - but nothing could have prepared him for the kitchen, with its cacophony of whirring and drilling, cables covering the surfaces.

He was relieved to see that Mr Granger was stirring a pot of gravy on a normal-looking stove. When Ron didn't respond to the greeting, Mr Granger followed his gaze.

'You must be wondering about the oven!' the older man misinterpreted the look. 'It's an AGA. I know that it's probably easier to have an electric oven, but I find that nothing beats the slight smoky edge to the wood burning AGA. Of course, Jean thinks it's all in my head, but she's not the one doing the cooking!'

'I like it,' Ron blurted out. 'I think my Mum has something similar, actually.'

Almost. She usually used _Incendio_ to get the thing going.

He glanced back to Hermione, who gave him an encouraging smile. It was going to be a long day.

* * *

'...and that's how I pulled the right tooth out by mistake!' Mrs Granger finished, wiping a tear of laughter away from one eye.

'It was just as well that the tooth was rotten,' Mr Granger said, shaking his head as he mopped up his gravy with some bread. 'We could have gotten into big trouble if the mayor suddenly found himself with rotten gums after having regular consultations for the past five years.'

Ron gave a polite smile, and bit into his final potato. The story had actually turned out to be rather funny, considering that Hermione's parents healed mouths for a living. However, he hadn't been able to enjoy it, since the meal had been nearing to an end and he still hadn't managed to get the words out. The words he had come here for. The words for which he was wearing his ridiculously stiff shirt.

'Mr and Mrs Granger,' he started, having gulped down the last of his food. He didn't get further than that before he was interrupted.

'Oh, Jean and Graham, please,' Mrs Granger urged.

'Um…Jean and Graham,' Ron corrected himself, the words feeling strange on his tongue. 'It was really nice to meet you, but-'

'You have to leave already?' Mrs Granger looked crestfallen. 'I had already made up the bed in Hermione's old room.'

'Let the lad speak, Jean,' Mr Granger admonished his wife, recognising the worried look on Ron's face. 'He'll tell us what he has to say.'

'Yes, well, um…As you know, Hermione and I have been together for… 'round about four years now. I know I haven't met you in all of that time and that most of that is my fault-'

'My fault,' Hermione interrupted in a small voice. 'If only I hadn't...' she trailed off, picking at her napkin.

This was not going how Ron had planned.

'Anyway,' he pressed on, feeling as though he was back in first year, playing against McGonagall's giant chess set. 'We've been going out for a while, and now that Hermione has finished her studies and is working in the…Law Department, and now that I've got a bit of spare time, since I'm mostly a detective now...'

Ron realised he was rambling and stopped. The rest of the dining table was hanging onto his words, letting him gather his thoughts.

'What I'm trying to say is that I love your daughter, and I'd like to marry her. We've talked about this together, and Hermione reckons it's a good idea.'

He stopped abruptly, not knowing how to go on. He couldn't ask for her father's permission, because that would seem archaic and barbaric, but he felt like they were going behind Hermione's parents' backs, which was why he had refused to let Hermione simply tell her parents herself.

'Why, that's wonderful news!' Mrs Granger cried, breaking into his spiralling thoughts. He looked up hopefully. 'I've been telling our Hermione that you would end up married since your very first year of school, haven't I Minny?'

'She has, actually,' Hermione admitted to Ron, not even blushing at her childhood nickname. 'All of our fights were the symptom of something wondrous, I recall her saying.'

'Well,' Ron said, going to his standby reaction of shrugging at this piece of news. 'I guess you were right then, Mrs Granger.'

'Jean, Jean, please!' Mrs Granger replied, going over to Hermione and hugging her tightly. 'Just think, Graham, our little girl's grown up!'

'Our little girl was grown up far beyond her time,' Mr Granger replied with a smile, but it was strained. His joke fell flat.

The joyous atmosphere turned solemn as memories of the war flashed across Ron's eyes. With a tremendous amount of effort, he managed to banish Fred's face from his mind. His brother would have wanted him laughing as much as possible. Or crying because of one of the twins pranks. But Ron preferred the former.

'Everyone did,' Hermione said warningly to her father.

'It's all because of magic,' Graham started, but Hermione interrupted.

'It's not, Dad, it's really not. In the past one hundred years, we've seen two of the worst wars in history, with no magic involved at all. I thought we were past that.'

Mr Granger seemed to deflate a little.

'I'm sorry, darling,' he replied. 'But it makes me feel so…so inadequate. Your mother and I can't protect you - couldn't protect you as parents should have. Magic…it's an unknown to us, and we can't do anything about it. Not one thing.'

Ron suddenly realised why Hermione had wanted him to leave his wand behind. It wasn't because her parents were afraid of household spells, or the wizarding world. It was to alleviate their feeling of being burdens on their daughter, the sensation of helplessness as powerful as any Imperius Curse.

He vowed then to never use magic in the Grangers' house. Not once did he bring his wand to the house, not even when Hermione and the children did twenty years later.


	2. The Adventure of Wendell Wilkins

**Build a Burrow prompt: Nail-gun: Write about a Death Eater facing off with an armed Muggle.**

 **Thanks to summersaults16 for the kind review and GhostDoor and kaykay25 for following!**

* * *

'Don't come any closer. I'm warning you!'

Wendell Wilkins raised his rifle a fraction higher, aiming the gun squarely at the man's chest. Monica remained out of sight, waiting for the moment she could rush downstairs and call the police.

Wendell had no idea why this man was here. He and his wife had led a very peaceful fifty years up until now, and he intended for them to live fifty more.

'I won't if you just give me the information I need,' the man replied roughly. 'Where's the girl?'

Wendell studied the man with the odd British accent. He had grey, greasy hair and pock marks all over his face, as though he had suffered from a terrible case of the measles when he was a child. He seemed to belong to some sort of gang, judging by the very specific skull tattoo with a snake twisted around it. When Wendell looked at it out of the corner of his eye, he could have sworn that he saw the black ink moving across his flesh.

'How many times must I repeat myself?' Wendell asked loudly. 'My name is Wendell Wilkins. I don't know any Hermione Granger, and I would definitely know if she was my daughter! My wife and I have no children of our own; you must be confusing us with someone else!'

The man brandished what looked to be a small stick at him, confirming Wendell's thoughts that he must have escaped from the mad house.

Wendell fired a warning shot in the air, intending to scare the man into leaving.

Still, he hadn't expected the reaction that he got. The man dropped his stick in fright, cringing at the large sound. His eyes darted upwards, as if to find out what happened to the air. He didn't seem to realise that the noise came from Wendell's gun.

After a few seconds, the man regained cntrol of himself, bending down to pick up his stick. At the same time, Wendell felt rather than heard the rustle of his wife's skirt as she slipped past him downstairs.

'That's it,' the man said angrily as he straightened. 'Now you'll feel the wrath of Augustus Rookwood.'

As the man advanced, Wendell felt a trickle of sweat roll down his spine. His vision seemed to narrow, focusing only on Rookwood and his immediate surroundings. The roar of blood in his ears deafened all outside sound.

Suddenly, Rookwood shot backwards, unceremoniously collapsing to the ground. Wendell felt a pressure on his shoulder, forcing him back too. A ringing noise made its way to his ears, the sound growing louder and louder until his entire head hurt.

As the red liquid seemed into the Wilkins' perfectly mowed lawn, Wendell realised what he had done. He had shot someone, for the first time in his life.

Before the horror could truly sink in though, the man on the ground moved, groaning. Wendell curbed his instinct to rush over to help him, and was rewarded with the touch of his wife's hand on his arm.

'It's done,' she said softly. 'The police will be here within five minutes.'

' _Vulnera Sanentur,_ ' Rookwood suddenly growled, saying the words like an incantation, the wooden stick firmly clutched in one hand.

Wendell watched in shock as the wound in his aggressor's chest healed part way before his very eyes.

'What are you?' he asked, unable to help himself.

Rookwood grunted, getting to his feet. 'Someone who will make the Mudblood pay for what you did.'

The wounded man jerked his head back at the sound of growing sirens. Wendell felt a growing sense of victory. Rookwood turned as if to run, but Wendell knew that the police were good at their job. Soon, they would capture the mad man, and the whole thing would be out of his hands.

*CRACK*

The man disappeared.


	3. A Tomb of Riddles

**Written for the Golden Snitch "Around the World" competition (prompt: write about a character known to have worked in Egypt)**

 **Bath: write about a known Prefect.**

* * *

With one last heave, Bill Weasley finished pushing aside the large stone blocking the doorway of the tomb. Panting, he wiped a sleeve across his forehead to prevent the sweat from trickling down into his eyes and readjusted the turban on his head.

Matthew, his assigned partner from Gringotts, had refused to adopt the locals' dress, preferring to keep his regal Ministry robes. Looking over at him now, Bill chuckled. He was sure that his partner was beginning to regret that particular choice. Whereas Matthew's robes encased him in layers of thick cloth, Bill was wearing the loose-fitting cotton pantaloons and airy white shirts that the Egyptians were accustomed to.

With the temperature just over forty degrees celsius and rising, Bill was equally glad for the self-filling water skein that they had brought along with them. Who knew when they would be done with this tomb?

Matthew bent over the map before gesturing for Bill to follow him. They had quickly learnt that they were better off not speaking, for fear of setting off any voice-activated traps the Ancient Egyptian sorcerers might have left protecting their treasures. Bill crept after his partner, making sure to tread in his glowing footsteps. Another nifty technique they had adopted during their two years of training.

As his eyes adapted to the dim gloom of the tomb, Bill looked around. It was a traditional two-roomed tomb, with the sarcophagus just beyond the antechamber. This person obviously hadn't been influential enough to merit a pyramid, but that wasn't to say that there weren't useful artefacts lying in their final resting place.

Suddenly, Matthew turned. Bill almost toppled over, lost in his thoughts. His heart pounded in his throat as he realised he had been daydreaming. Daydreaming could get you killed on this kind of job.

After getting over his initial panic, Bill realised that Matthew had shoved the map in his face. Along with a path around the tomb that was safe to tread, there was a crude drawing of the sarcophagus with a riddle written above.

 _"Three are needed to access the treasure in the urn_

 _Try to kill our first and two more will return_

 _Our second is the ever changing dawn_

 _Third represents mysteries unknown_

 _Last but not least you must press the key_

 _Hidden within one of the three."_

Bill held back a sigh. He felt a slightly throbbing headache start up at his temples. Couldn't Matthew have examined the entire map _before_ they had entered the tomb? They wouldn't be able to suss out the riddle aloud for fear of activating the traps, and several of the tombs around the area had collapsed upon exit. That was why they were supposed to have a plan going in, and to have acquired the artefacts before leaving.

The redheaded man snatched the paper from his partner's hands, hinting at a promise of his anger to come, but kept his lips firmly pressed shut, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear.

 _Three are needed to access the treasure…_ Bill thought, as he and Matthew exchanged places so that Bill could take a look at the tomb. _It's a good thing that the Hat nearly put me in Ravenclaw._

The sarcophagus was covered with intricately carved runes. Numbers from 0 to 9 decorated the lid, and as Bill slowly walked around the grave, he noticed that random words were inscribed into the sides. If these were anything like the tombs he had studied, a sequence of numbers would open the lid, and the curses within the entire tomb would be deactivated when he touched the correct rune on the side. The problem was… which runes?

Bill decided to reason logically. Each number was represented by a specific magical creature. So each description would be of said creature. Quickly, he withdrew a Self-Inking Quill from his pocket, writing down each animal on the parchment.

Matthew made large waves with his arms, but Bill ignored him. Matthew could always make another map once they got out.

 _0 - Demiguise_

 _1 - Unicorn_

 _2 - Graphorn_

 _3 - Runespoor_

 _4 - Fwooper_

 _5 - Quintaped_

 _6 - Salamander_

 _7 - unknown_

 _8 - Acromantula_

 _9 - Hydra_

The first was easy - only a hydra grew two more heads when one tried to kill it. So the first number was 9, for the nine heads of a hydra.

 _Third represents mysteries unknown._

That was also easy - only one number remained unknown because it represented the mysteries of magic. So the third was 7.

That left the second number. _Our second is the ever changing dawn._ As far as Bill knew, none of these animals were attributed to light or dawn or daylight. The nearest was the salamander, but "dawn" was very different from "fire". He frowned, his eyes unfocusing in thought.

After a while, his thoughts wandered away and only a tap on the shoulder from Matthew brought him back to himself.

 _Get it together, Bill!_ He reprimanded himself.

He blinked several times, about to hand the map better to Matthew, when something caught his eye.

There, in front of him, was the rune _Dagaz._ As if on cue, his brain repeated the information he had learnt all those years ago for his O.W.L.s. _Dagaz represents the dawn, the coming of a new day. This often meant a new cycle or a new age. It governs the realms of transformation and invisibility._

 _But of course!_ Bill thought. _How could I have forgotten? I kept mixing up 0 and Dagaz in my studies, because the Demiguise also represents change and invisibility._

Grinning to himself, he thrust the map back into Matthew's arms and pressed the keys: 9-7-0-Dagaz.

This was it. Either they would return to camp with the artefact, or not return at all.


	4. Under My Skin

**Sand-paper: Write about a character who appears hard on the outside, but is actually soft on the inside.**

 **Written for the QLFC: Daffodil (as inspired by Narcissa Malfoy): Write about a character acting chivalrous, or having another character acting chivalrous towards your character.**

 **Team: Tutshill Tornados**

 **Position: Keeper**

 **Written for Hogwarts Assignment #1: Potion: Felix Felicis: Write about someone being reckless.**

 **Word count: 2783**

 **Thanks to The Kawaii Neko (Shay) for beta-ing... twice!**

* * *

It had been a good morning at the Ministry for Percy Weasley. Bartemius Crouch had called him "Weasley" for the first time in six months (albeit via owl post), and he had just been promoted to the role of personal assistant.

There would be no more writing of the thickness of cauldrons — contrary to popular belief, Percy had _not_ enjoyed that particular essay — no more bringing tea and biscuits to just about everyone in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, no more pretending that he loved every second of his hated job.

He had received his official Ministry's badge along with his promotion letter, proving that he was no longer a simple intern and was in fact part of the organisation. He couldn't have been more pleased.

So with that in mind, Percy hummed as he entered Mr Crouch's office, stopping in the doorway for a moment to marvel at his progress. He would be taking over some of the Head of Departments more menial tasks whilst the older wizard concentrated his efforts on the Triwizard Tournament. It was a very important task and needless to say, Percy was thrilled.

'Excuse me,' a feminine voice said timidly from behind him.

Percy turned around to see a mousey haired witch with large glasses clutching at an enormous stack of parchment. She blinked rather rapidly at his scrutiny.

'I apologise,' he said immediately, bowing slightly as he let her through, closing the door behind them. 'I didn't realise that there would be somebody else in the office. My name is Percy Weasley,' he added, proffering a hand. 'I'm Mr Crouch's personal assistant. Who might you be?'

'Audrey Graham,' the brunette replied, fumbling with her papers as she tried to return the handshake.

'Allow me,' Percy intervened, grabbing the documents and setting them on the nearest desk.

'Thank you,' Audrey replied, before shaking his hand. 'I'm here to show you how everything works. I was Mr Crouch's secretary before he decided to go to Hogwarts alone. Now I work for Minister Fudge.'

Percy was impressed. As Audrey went on, detailing the responsibilities of a personal secretary, he found himself more and more captivated by this witch. Why hadn't he seen her at Hogwarts? How hadn't he noticed her at the Ministry? The questions whirled in his head, and he found himself having trouble concentrating on the work at hand.

 _Unprecedented!_ he thought to himself, trying to shake himself out of his stupor.

But try as he might, he couldn't help but glance over to Audrey's desk as they worked in silence, bringing her tea when her cup was empty, opening the door as she led him to each meeting, pulling out her chair as they sat down to eat in the small cafeteria.

* * *

As the weeks went by, he found himself wondering more and more about this enigmatic witch, who could discuss anything from world politics to the positive effects of rabbit's feet in the blink of an eye. He found out that she was Muggleborn, that her favourite colour was maroon, and that she missed coffee more than anything else from the Muggle world.

Eventually, he couldn't help himself. They were sitting by the fountain in the middle of the hall, enjoying a lull in the working day, when he finally worked up enough courage.

'Were you at Hogwarts? he asked bluntly, surprised at his own audacity.

'Yes,' she replied with a half smile. 'I was Head Girl when you were made Prefect.'

Percy felt his ears burn with embarrassment and ducked his head.

'Were you a Ravenclaw?' he asked, hoping to jog his memory.

'Actually, no, I was a Hufflepuff,' she replied with a small frown. 'You know, everyone guesses wrong whenever the question comes up.'

'It's because of your amazing mind,' Percy said, the words tumbling out of his mouth before his brain could catch up.

Honestly, he was going to end up as reckless as Charlie if he continued in this fashion.

'Why thank you, Mr Weasley,' Audrey smiled, thankfully not commenting any further. She got up, smoothing down the front of her dress. 'We should get back to work. We have a lot of ground to cover before we meet with the French Head of Magical Cooperation next week. I'm sure Mr Crouch would like the fine details to be owled to him beforehand.'

Percy followed her back to the office, unaware of the goofy grin spreading on his face in a decidedly un-Percy-like manner.

* * *

'I'm fairly certain that went well,' Percy told Audrey as they watched the French wizard disappear with Portkey in one of the restaurant's private rooms.

'Of course it did,' she replied, tapping him slightly on the forearm. 'He just promised to sign the International Ban on Duelling! "Went well" is an understatement. Congratulations, Percy!'

'Yes, well, I couldn't have done it without you,' Percy replied, although he could feel himself standing a little straighter, a little taller, a little more assuredly.

'We must celebrate!' Audrey continued, signalling the waiter as they went back to their table. 'Two menus, please.'

On an impulse, Percy stayed the waiter's hand.

'No need,' he said as smoothly as he could. 'We'll have the chocolate mousse for two please.'

His gaze flickered to Audrey in a brief moment of incertitude, _would she see this as too self-important? Were my brothers right?_ He needn't have worried. Her eyes were shining brightly, magnified by her glasses.

 _Good choice, Percy_ , he congratulated himself.

He decided to push his luck.

'Are you, perchance, available this Yule?' he asked, adjusting his own horn-rimmed glasses' with two fingers.

Almost immediately, he regretted his decision. What would this ambitious, captivating, intelligent witch ever see in him? Red hair, hand-me-down robes — a Weasley with no connections and even less money. He had nothing to offer that she could not obtain ten-fold from someone else. Just as he was about to retract his statement, apologise for overstepping his boundaries, she cocked her head, twisting her lips the way she did before she said something witty.

'That would depend entirely on what the availability is for,' she replied, not taking her eyes off of his own even as the waiter came and went. 'If you are asking for Bartemius Crouch's sake or about work...'

'For me,' Percy interrupted, his heart racing. 'I'm asking for me.'

There was a pause. The restaurant background noise seemed to fade, leaving only the sound of blood rushing through his ears before she spoke.

'I'm always available for you, Percy Weasley.'

* * *

Three weeks later, Percy found himself rapping smartly on the Grahams' door, dressed in his finest dress robes. Admittedly, they were not much, but it was amazing what a week's worth of practice and a book on household spells could do.

He wiped his hands on his robes surreptitiously as he waited; making sure that his wand was stowed securely away in his pocket. He wouldn't want to scare Audrey's mother.

'Oh, do come in poppet!' Mrs Graham exclaimed as she opened the door. 'Audrey'll be just a moment.'

'Thank you, Mrs Graham' Percy said quickly, shaking the Yorkshire snow from his robes before stepping over the threshold. He looked around at the unmoving pictures, the electric lights that didn't flicker, unlike gas lamps and candles. He noticed one of the fellytones his father always talked about sitting on the table next to a camera, so small he was sure it wouldn't work. Then he noticed the cream carpets, the beaming smiles of Mrs Graham and Audrey in every picture, and he realised that this Muggle home was not so different from his own. 'You have a beautiful home.'

'Thank you dear,' the woman replied, before calling over her shoulder. 'Audreeey! Your new boyfriend's here!'

'Oh, I'm not her boyfriend,' Percy assured Audrey's mother. 'That is, I would like to be, but I wouldn't dare assume...'

'Oh, codswallop! You're all she's been talking about!' Mrs Graham cried. 'My word, it's the only thing come out of her mouth that I've been able to understand since she started working for your Ministry.'

'I'm certain it's not too different from your own,' Percy replied congenially, but the rest of his words died as he saw Audrey walk out of the living room.

'You didn't have to come all the way to my house,' she said, a faint blush colouring her cheeks.

'I know,' Percy replied somewhat gruffly, trying not to stare at her for too long. 'But I wanted to.'

She was stunning. There was no other word for it. He had always found her intriguing, attractive, but never had he thought her beautiful before now. The soft curls of her brown hair had been pulled back, allowing her face to shine instead of being hidden beneath her locks. Her eyes were alight with enthusiasm, shimmering beneath her glasses with joy. Her floor-length gown - appropriate attire for a ball - was a soft yellow, falling to the floor in rivulets.

'Well,' Audrey said eventually, clearing her throat. 'I'll see you later, Mum.'

'Wait! Before you go...'

Mrs Graham snatched the camera off of a nearby tabletop. She motioned for Percy and Audrey to shuffle together, which they did with a minimum amount of awkwardness. She snapped several photos, before motioning them out of the door.

'Have fun, sweeties!' she called, waving as they stepped out into the cold. 'Drive safely!'

'After you,' Percy opened the door of the Ministry car with a short bow. His voice was slightly gruff, something he was sure would not go unnoticed. To his surprise, Audrey said nothing, simply getting into the car.

'You look radiant,' he added sincerely, as they pulled out of the drive.

'Thank you,' Audrey replied softly, nervous for the first time since Percy had met her. 'You don't look too bad yourself.'

The rest of the drive went by in silence. For once, neither of them knew what to say.

* * *

'Percy!' Fred cried, skipping over to his brother.

Percy held back a groan. This was an important event, a formal one, and his brothers were still acting like the inane monkeys they were. At least Ron had made some effort.

'I wasn't expecting you to be here, brother!' Fred continued, oblivious to Percy's discomfort. Or perhaps in spite of it. Percy was never too sure with the twins. 'Come on, try some of the punch!' Fred winked. 'There's a little extra something in it.'

'No thank you,' Percy replied stiffly, hoping that his brother would leave him in peace. He had walked over to the Hogwarts professors to inquire about Mr Crouch's health for five minutes, and he had already lost Audrey among the crowd. Some date he was turning out to be.

'Aw, just try it Percy! It might loosen that stick up your arse,' Fred guffawed.

'Some of us have a job,' Percy replied, biting his tongue so as to not make a scene.

'Some of us have fun,' Fred quipped back.

'And some of us are having a really bad hair day,' George appeared on Percy's other side, inspecting his brother's curly hair with one drunken finger. 'Seriously Percy, you call that a hair cut? I'm surprised they even let you in to work in the morning.'

Percy slapped his brother's probing hand away; surreptitiously making sure his hair was still in place. It was. He huffed, straightening his robes. Five minutes with the twins was quite enough family bonding, in his opinion.

'Very funny, George,' he rolled his eyes. 'Now if you excuse me, I have more important things to do.'

 _Like finding out what happened to Audrey,_ he added mentally, pushing past his bothersome brothers.

Glancing around the room, Percy decided that the best thing to do would be a general sweep of the area. If he still hadn't located her, then he would surreptitiously ask a few people. He didn't want to look as though he had lost his date, after all. That would be very unseemly.

Luckily enough, he spotted her almost straight away, talking to Ludo Bagman in one of the corridors leading off towards the dungeons. A smile found its way onto his face, and he set off immediately in their direction.

Just as he was about to call a greeting, his smile faltered, his pace slowing as he caught part of their conversation.

'It's customary for secretaries to loan higher-ranking officials money if there's a hiccup in the bank balance,' Bagman said smoothly. 'There's a bonus in it for you as well.'

'Thank you, sir, but I'm afraid I must decline,' Audrey replied, looking down. 'I transfer most of my money in Gringotts into Muggle money, since I still live with my mother.'

'Oh don't be like that, Miss Graham!' Bagman cajoled, putting a hand on her wrist. 'It's only two hundred galleons, really, only a month's pay, and I'd be sure to put in a good word about you when I meet with the Minister for Magic, how about that?'

'I'm sorry, Mr Bagman,' Audrey shook her head, her ringlets following the movement from left to right. 'I just can't.'

She made to move away, but Bagman tightened his hold on her wrist, pulling her back into the corridor.

'Now listen here, young miss,' the former Beater growled, his patience wearing thin.

'No!' Percy found himself running towards the pair. He had heard enough. 'You listen here, Bagman! Unhand Audrey at once!'

'Mr Weasley!' Bagman's voice turned charming once more. He released Audrey, who backed away, rubbing at her arm. 'Your girlfriend and I were just having a friendly chat. Ah, to be a jealous boyfriend once more, hey?'

He nudged Percy jovially.

Percy recoiled from the touch, disgusted. How had he ever liked this man? How had he ever looked up to him? After checking to see that Audrey was all right, he turned, fuming, back to the Head of Department of Magical Games and Sports.

'That didn't look like a friendly chat to me,' he said angrily, feeling his face heat up with emotion. 'It looked like you trying to coerce Audrey into giving you her money.'

Without thinking, Percy drew his wand, levelling it at Bagman. The smile disappeared from the older man's face, his rosy expression fading into a frown.

'Now, now, Mr Weasley,' he said, his voice coiling like a snake ready to attack. 'You wouldn't want me to report you for threatening a Ministry official, would you? That would look very bad on your résumé. Why, it might even take you years to regain the standing you would lose.'

'I don't care!' Percy fumed, his voice trembling with anger.

Mistaking Percy's tone for that of a man cornered, Bagman's smirk reappeared on his face, his hands beseeching. 'You're such a bright young man, Weasley. If you play your cards right, you might be the youngest Department Head we've had in years. I can trust you to do the right thing, can't I?'

'You can,' Percy declared, stowing his wand. Ludo Bagman's shoulders relaxed in relief. 'So I'm going to say this once, and only once. If you ever try to extort money from Audrey or threaten her again, you'll be very sorry. I will stop at nothing to bring you to justice, no matter the cost.'

With one final glare, Percy turned to Audrey, stooping slightly to look her in the eyes.

'Are you sure you're all right?' he asked softly.

'Y- yes, I think so,' she replied, glancing from Percy to Ludo Bagman and back again. 'Would you mind…would you mind if I just went home?'

'Of course not,' Percy said immediately, placing a hand on her back as they made their way to Severus Snape's office. 'I'll accompany you to the nearest Floo. Your mother's house is connected, isn't it?'

'Yes, but she's a little scared when people fly out of the fireplace,' Audrey joked weakly.

She shivered as they entered the musty potions' corridor. Percy quickly slipped his outer robes off and draped them around the small witch, keeping his arm around her until they reached the potions' master's office. Audrey paused at the doorway, about to shrug the robes off, but Percy stopped her.

'Keep them,' he said, anticipating her question. He had said so many uncharacteristic things around her that it felt like second nature to push his luck a little further. 'You can return them to me on our next date. Hopefully, it will be better than this one.'

'I'd like that,' Audrey replied, giving him a small smile, her eyes filled with an emotion Percy couldn't quite describe. She hesitated, as if afraid to broach the subject, but ploughed on. 'What you did back there...You could get fired. You didn't have to do that for me.'

'I know,' Percy said simply. 'But I wanted to.'


	5. The Acid Pop Incident

**Taps: write about someone using the Aguamenti charm**

 **Tiggerfic time! Prompt: Aguamenti**

 **Emiliya, Horned Serpent, points: 10**

* * *

'Do you think Acid Pops really burn holes in people's tongues?' Fred Weasley asked his brother as they were lounging in their room one summer.

'I don't know, Fred,' George replied. 'But it would be wicked if they did.'

'Do you think they react with the saliva, or any water?' Fred mused, his eyes glinting with mischief. 'Imagine the pranks we could play on Aunt Muriel.'

'Imagine the pranks we could play on Ron.'

'Imagine the pranks we could play on Mum.'

The twins paused, looking at each other.

'We won't play any pranks on Mum,' they agreed in unison.

If anyone had been in the room with them, they would have detected a hint of fear in their voices. If anyone had mentioned it, Fred and George would have denied it.

'So George,' Fred started.

'So Fred,' George continued, swinging his legs off of his bed. 'Shall we commence our search?'

'We shall, dear brother.'

Fred proffered his arm, George took it, and they marched arm in arm over to Charlie's bedroom.

'Charlie,' George poked his head through the doorway. 'Mum's complaining about your school robes again.'

Charlie stood up from his desk, sighing as only a fifteen year old could. 'I told her already, I don't _know_ where those burns came from!'

George gave a helpful shrug, blinking his eyes with an innocence only a nine year old could muster.

Charlie sighed again, before following George down the stairs and into the garden. Immediately, Fred went rifling through Charlie's drawers. It was a well established fact in the Weasley family that Charlie had an addiction for Acid Pops. Molly Weasley had banned them from her house, but that didn't stop Charlie from popping one into his mouth every time he got onto the Hogwarts Express every year. He had never shown his tongue to the twins, no matter how they begged, and so the case remained a mystery. Until now.

'Aha!' Fred cried, holding up the small green lollypop.

He scrambled out of the room just as his twin returned.

'What are you to up to this time?' Charlie asked.

 _Bugger_ , Fred thought. _We weren't fast enough._

So instead he looked at George and nodded.

'Nothing,' they chorused, plastering on big smiles.

Charlie chuckled and shook his head.

'Well, make sure you aren't caught,' he warned, before shutting the door. As an afterthought, he raised his voice. 'And don't come into my room without my permission!'

'No, Charlie,' the twins chorused again, before racing down the stairs.

They needed a victim.

The perfect candidate was sitting in the middle of the living room floor, playing with Quidditch figurines. Ron was so gullible, it was amazing, even after all the pranks they had pulled on him.

'Wow, these lollies are so good, Fred!' George said loudly, pretending to swallow. 'I can't believe Mum gave them to us!'

'I know, George,' Fred said, equally loud as they threw themselves onto the sofa. 'There's one left, but I don't think my stomach can handle so much sweetie goodness.'

Both twins sighed dramatically.

As if on cue, Ron put his toys down and clambered onto the sofa next to them.

'I want one!' he whined.

'I don't know George, what do you think?' Fred asked, pretending to think.

'I guess it couldn't hurt...' George let his voice trail off. 'Only if you say please, Ron.'

'Please, please pleeease!' Ron asked, bouncing up and down.

Fred slowly took the Acid Pop from his pocket, making sure the wrapper was undone. It wouldn't do for Ron to notice the wrong label. He slowly proffered it to his youngest brother, who snatched it eagerly.

'Thank you!' Ron crooned dutifully, cramming the entire lolly into his mouth.

The twins waited eagerly. One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.

Suddenly, Ron's face crumpled and a whine started up, his mouth opening wide.

'His mouth's smoking!' George said, horrified at what they had done.

'Put it out, put it out!' Fred screamed, attracting the attention of Percy, who had been reading, unnoticed, in the armchair on the other side of the room.

'What have you done?' Percy asked sharply, coming over to the three panicking boys. Then he saw the smoke.

 _'Aguamenti_!' he yelled, sending a spurt of water into Ron's mouth.

Ron only started crying harder.

 _'Aguamenti_!' Percy yelled again. _'Aguamenti_!'

Soon, the wails attracted the attention of their mother, who had recently come in from hanging out the washing.

'What are you boys up to?' she demanded, putting her hands on her hips.' Stop that right now, Percy! I never expected this kind of behaviour from you especially.'

'But Mum, Ron's mouth was on fire!' Percy complained.

'Let me see,' Mrs Weasley yanked the sweet out of her youngest son's mouth to reveal the hole in his tongue. 'Oh for heavens' sake.'


	6. The Mind of Ronald Weasley - the Sorting

**Wallpaper: write about a character becoming frustrated.**

 **Tiggerfic times! Prompt: Gryffindor**

 **Emiliya, Horned Serpent, 5 points.**

* * *

Ron fidgeted impatiently, waiting for his turn at the stool. Nearly everyone had been sorted by now, and there was only Ron and an olive-skinned boy who looked even more annoyed than Ron himself. Harry had gone to Gryffindor, much to Ron's relief. He liked the guy, and he had been worried when the hat took a pretty long time.

He glanced over to the Gryffindor table, where Fred and George were moving their heads in synchronisation, imitating snakes.

 _Gits_ , Ron thought fervently.

Against his will, his eyes moved to the green and silver clad table, where Malfoy was sneering at something his neighbour said. The neighbour in question could only be described as a gorilla. There was no other word for him. Ron shuddered with disgust. No, he would definitely not be sitting over there.

He didn't spare the other two tables even a single glance – it was Gryffindor, or he would be out of the door.

'Ronald Weasley,' Professor McGonagall called in her clear, crisp voice.

Ron was surprised he couldn't detect a hint of boredom in his voice. She must have the worst job in the world; she had been standing in front of the stool for two hours now.

She cleared her throat, and Ron took the hint. With only the smallest of gulps, he settled himself down on the stool, ducking his head as far as it would go.

 _Even that Hermione Granger managed to get into Gryffindor,_ Ron thought. _How hard can it be?_ He jammed the hat on his head. It fell past his ears and eyes, obscuring most of the room from view.

 _Well, what do we have here? Another Weasley, eh? Well, I've sorted your brothers and I know just where to put you!_

 _Great_ , Ron thought. _Even the hat doesn't give a damn about anything but my brothers._

 _What was that? My, my, I do have an ambitious one, don't I?_

 _NO,_ Ron argued. He knew which House was renowned for its ambition, and he would rather leave Hogwarts than go there. _Percy's way more ambitious than me, and he got into Gryffindor._

 _Yes, I see,_ said the hat. _A thirst to prove yourself. A thirst for glory._

 _Shut up!_ Ron yelled mentally _. Stop acting like I'm a bloody Slytherin._

 _Well, here we have it now,_ the Hat said snidely. _You're not the first student to have House prejudices. Do you really think that a quarter of the students here are evil?_

 _Yes,_ Ron replied stubbornly. _Just sort me already._

 _How rude,_ the hat replied, and Ron could have sworn that it sounded affronted. _I would have thought your mother would have taught you better than that. William in particular was a delight to speak to._

 _Yeah well, I'm not my brother,_ Ron huffed. He was getting angry. He was supposed to be sorted into a House, not make small talk with a bloody hat!

 _Oh, all right then!_ the hat's tone took on a distinctively dismissive note. _Yes, you might do well in Slytherin, but your outspokenness, your bravery, your impulsiveness…They are all signs of one House, and one House alone…_

"Better be... GRYFFINDOR!"

Ron felt himself deflate with relief as the hat called out the name, and almost skipped with joy over to his designated table.


	7. The Flaming Phoenix Inn

**Carpet: write about a character with a "warm" personality - Charlie Weasley**

 **Hogwarts Assignment #1: Unpopular Careers - Barmaid/Keep**

 **Extra credit: write Charlie Weasley as something other than a dragonologist**

 **Hogwarts Gobstones event:** **Brown Stone - Working**

 **Extra prompts: accuracy - (action) mopping; power - (object) bottle of whiskey; technique - (action) cooking**

 **Word count: 981**

* * *

Charlie Weasley wiped his brow as he mopped the last corner of the Flaming Phoenix. Setting the mop back in the bucket, he decided to sit at one of the benches to catch his breath.

When he had decided to move to Romania to become a Dragonologist, he hadn't realised how strict the Romanians were when it came to working with dragons. You needed excellent knowledge of spells, yes, but there were also several physical tests one needed to pass, as well as a Romanian language test.

At Hogwarts, Charlie had been reasonably fit - enough to make Seeker and Quidditch Captain - but that was nothing compared to the sheer brute strength one needed to be able to escape a dragon's clutches if things went sour.

He had been too embarrassed to go back to England, so had stayed on for a while. Luckily, Darius, the innkeeper, had taken pity on the poor ginger from the north, and had offered him a job as a barkeep whilst Charlie found his feet.

Of course, Charlie hadn't realised that by "barkeep", Darius had meant "general kitchen boy and waiter". He had him doing everything from mopping the floor by hand to cooking Frigarui without an ounce of magic. Apparently, magic removed the flavour.

Charlie was of the opinion that magic removed the flavour of the sweat that dripped daily into the grill. When he had said as much to Darius, the innkeeper had let out a rumbling belly laugh and explained that the drops of sweat stoked the flames higher.

Still, Charlie used a bandana on his brow after the first day.

He couldn't complain though. His broken Romanian was getting better by the day, and Darius had never once mocked him for a misspoken word. No one had, in fact. Instead, the locals made a point to talk about their days with Charlie, correcting him joyfully where he went wrong and learning English catchphrases they could repeat to their friends when they got the chance.

Yes, going to Romania had been one of Charlie's better ideas, he decided, grabbing a bottle of whisky from the shelf and pouring himself a glass.

'Are you stealing my whisky, boy?' a voice thundered from the stairway.

'N- I thought you said I could..?' Charlie's voice trailed off as his cheeks flamed as red as his hair.

'Ah, I'm just messing with you,' Darius manoeuvred himself onto the barstool opposite Charlie and motioned for him to pour another glass. He looked around the simple wooden room, with its long benches and longer tables. 'I'll be mighty sorry to see this place go, mind.'

'Why would it go?' Charlie asked, surprised. The inn had been running for ten years before he had arrived, and it had been three since. 'Are you selling it?'

'I'm getting old boy,' Darius replied, a frown tugging at his features. 'And with all the new tourist attractions coming up around the dragon resort, I don't think there will be any room for a place like this much longer.'

'That's ridiculous,' Charlie replied, surprised to find himself angry. 'You've been here forever! And the locals love you. It wouldn't be the same without the Flaming Phoenix.'

'Ah, the indignation of youth,' the older man smiled gently. 'Always alarmed for some reason or other. But when you get to my age, well, you learn that time has a habit of taking the things you love, no matter how much you hold on to them. You learn to let go.'

'That's ridiculous and you know it,' Charlie retorted. 'You bought the place with your own gold, you've been here for years now. What right would anyone have to take the inn away from you?'

Darius was silent, letting Charlie's anger fade into the cracks in the woodwork. Charlie bit his lip, but said nothing. Darius could get nostalgic some evenings.

I see you're getting better at cleaning,' Darius said eventually, nodding at the still-wet floors.

'It's probably not as good as it would be with magic,' Charlie admitted, looking around the room.

'But you feel like you've accomplished something, don't you?' Darius replied with a shrewd look. 'You can probably go back to using magic most days now.

'I do actually,' Charlie said slowly, before he realised what the innkeeper had said. 'Wait. Do you mean to say that the whole "cleaning by hand gives the place a nice touch" was complete rubbish?'

'That it was, son,' Darius winked, downing his whisky in one and pouring himself twice as much as before. 'But I bet you're feeling more at ease than you used to. Stronger, too, after lifting those benches up.'

Charlie appraised the fifty year old Romanian with new eyes. He had thought him a likeable, but fairly dim old man. He realised that he was mistaken, that Darius was wiser than he looked. Perhaps his earlier complaints had some merit.

'Not as stupid as this belly makes me look, boy,' Darius caught on immediately, rubbing his pot belly with a wink. 'I get a lot of kids like you coming through. Some of them know what they're looking for. And some of them need a little help along the way.'

'Thanks,' Charlie replied, feeling his cheeks burn a second time, though not out of shame. 'I don't know how I can repay you, actually. For giving me a place to stay, for teaching me Romanian, for this,' he waved an arm around him. 'For everything.'

'Well, for starters, you can take that dragonologist exam next year and pass,' Darius said, ticking off one of his second. 'And second, when you succeed, you can come in every week and buy everyone a round of this fine whisky. I reckon that would set me up for life.'

'Deal,' Charlie said, grasping Darius's hand and shaking it meaningfully. 'I couldn't have done it without you.'


	8. Justice - Ginny Weasley Edition

**Gobstones Event - Bronze stone: Justice**

 **Extra prompts: Genre: humour, setting: the Burrow, character: Ludo Bagman**

 **Jenga - dialogue: I want to be there when you get what's coming to you**

 **World Lion Day - write about a Gryffindor**

 **Pinata - Medium: humour**

* * *

Ginny Weasley was seething. She had dragged the entire story out of Fred and George - she knew how to channel her mother if needs be. Oh and how her brothers had needed her this year. If they had only confided in her sooner, maybe Bagman would have given them the money he owed. As it was, her two prankster brothers had no savings at all.

After the excitement of the Yule Ball she had returned to the Burrow for New Year to spend some time with her family. Bill would be home, and she didn't want to miss out on seeing her favourite brother. She barely saw him as it was.

What she didn't expect was to find Ludo Bagman sitting casually at the table, chatting with her father. Fred and George had immediately stomped up into their room, and that was when Ginny pried the information out of them.

 _No one cheats my brothers,_ she thought vindictively. _Only I am allowed to do that._

It turned out that Bagman was going to stay for dinner, which coincided perfectly with Ginny's plans. She set about putting her plan into place, and when her mother called that it was time for dinner, she happily slid into the seat next to their guest, leaving the spot next to Bill open for one of the twins to take.

'Oh, Ginny,' Bagman said jovially. 'What an honour to be sitting by the lovely lady of the house.' He glanced over at Molly, who had set the shepherd's pie in the middle of the table. ' _One_ of the lovely ladies,' he corrected himself hastily. 'Molly, you do too much around here.'

Molly turned red and hurried back into the kitchen for the pumpkin juice.

'I just had to sit next to you, Mr Bagman,' Ginny said, matching the sportsman's tone. 'After all, I wanted some pointers on your Quidditch skills. Plus,' her voice turned dangerously sweet. 'I want to be there when you get what's coming for you.'

The smile fell slightly from Bagman's face. Fred, who was sitting on Ginny's other side, snorted, knowing what it meant. As Ginny maintained her smile, even going so far as to widen it, Bagman gulped, his eyes flitting towards Arthur. Of course, he couldn't say anything without revealing his debt to the twins.

'Why don't you have the first serving, Mr Bagman?' Ginny asked, cutting a slice of steaming pie. 'After all, you are our _guest._ '

'Ginny,' Bill said warningly, catching the venom laced within her words.

Ginny smiled sweetly at her favourite brother. He would understand when she explained later. 'I'm only trying to be a good host.'

'That's my girl,' Arthur said proudly, smiling at his youngest.

'On second thoughts, I don't… I don't feel very hungry,' Bagman smiled weakly. 'I'll be fine with a bit of bread and some water. I had a large lunch.'

'Of course, Mr Bagman,' Ginny said, putting the slice on Fred's plate instead. Her brother started eating with gusto, though there was a slight furrow in his brow as though worried that something may have been inside it. She went into the kitchen and got a glass. 'Here you go.'

The water was slightly fizzy, unlike the tap water in the jug on the table. Bagman glanced at the water jug, evidently wondering whether he could pour himself a second glass without being rude.

'Thank you Ginny, but there was no need to get fresh water,' Molly intervened. Bagman's shoulders relaxed visibly.

'I only wanted to get some ice cubes to put in it,' Ginny replied in a hurt tone, making it a little juvenile.. 'If I'm going to be reprimanded for being nice to guests now, then I guess I'll stop.'

'That's not what your mother meant, dear,' Arthur tried to smooth things over.

Percy - who was back for the holidays -, Fred, George and Bill said nothing. Percy had never liked Bagman, and the latter three were secretly waiting for Ginny's trick to pan out. Ludo took the water to his lips, trembling with anticipation. A beeping noise sounded from his pocket.

Bagman let out a long sigh of relief, making a big deal of getting up.

'Well, I'm so sorry to cut this short, but I really am needed at the office, so I guess I'll just…'

'Are you really needed at the office?' George couldn't help but ask. 'Because it seems like you spend most of your time _avoiding_ work.'

'George!' Molly reprimanded, but Fred had already started another attack.

'Yeah, Ludo. I didn't know you were one to _hold to his word_. I guess apologies are in order.'

'That they are, Fred,' George chimed in. 'It seems that Ludo is very _prompt_ in getting back to work. I wonder if he's like that in all aspects of life?'

Percy had his brow furrowed, trying to pick up on the subtext of the conversation. Arthur's mouth was a thin line - he was a patient man, but he had taught his children better than that.

'Oh, yes, well… People can be full of surprises, boys!' Bagman said hurriedly. 'I'm really sorry, Molly, Arthur, but I really need to go.'

'I'll get the door,' Ginny said quickly, rising to her feet and snatching Bagman's cloak off of the hatstand.

'That's quite all right.'

'I _insist_ ,' Ginny said, leading Bagman to the hallway and opening the door. 'Oh and Mr Bagman?'

Ludo turned, evidently believing that the worst was behind him.

'I think you owe my brothers something. I wouldn't want you to forget, so I left you a little reminder.'

'What kind of reminder?' Bagman asked warily.

'This one,' Ginny took out her wand and used her signature spell, the one she had perfected over the years.

Ludo gave a strangled cry as green-winged monsters flapped out of his nose, pulling at his hair and spitting in his face.

'There's more where that came from, Bagman,' Ginny said, releasing the curse. 'I wouldn't forget about us just because we're underage.'

Ginny watched Ludo run to the gate at the end of the garden, her eyes following him until he Apparated into thin air. Smiling at a job well done, she started when a warm hand pressed against his shoulder.

'I won't tell if you had a good reason,' Bill said, putting an arm around his only sister. 'But next time, you're better off telling me first. In the Curse-breaking business, you tend to learn a few interesting ones.'

'Will you teach me?' Ginny asked eagerly.

'Of course,' Bill winked. 'Just don't tell the twins.'


	9. Operation Smuggle

**QLFC round 7:** **Write about two witches or wizards going undercover in a Muggle town and having to learn to live like Muggles.**

 **Hogwarts Assignment #3 - Home Economics and Domestic magic:** **Task 4 - Textiles and Clothing: Write about a Wizard trying to blend in wearing muggle clothing.**

 **Beta'd by isaacswolfsbane, WritingBlock, The Kawaii Neko, BlueRubyBeat.**

 **Word Count: 3,000 exactly**

* * *

' _Run, Gideon, faster!'_

 _The twins raced across deserted alleyways, apparating in and out of streets, but every time Fabian looked back, he could see Dolohov's grinning face, his black eyes making the sockets look skeletal in the half light. Putting on another burst of speed, he found himself thrown to the ground, crushed by his brother's body._

 _Two seconds later, Gideon was up and leaping for cover, and Fabian soon saw why. There were two more Death Eaters in front. That made five, with the three behind. Fabian caught Gideon's eye and the twins came to a silent agreement. They would give them hell, as much as they could before the end._

 _After all, no one encountered Antonin Dolohov and survived._

* * *

'Molly.'

Her eyes flickered from the window, but only for a second before her gaze returned to the hills beyond. She pulled the blanket tighter around her body, creating another barrier - a physical one - between them.

'Molly,' Arthur tried a second time, laying a hand on his wife's arm.

She didn't react. That was what scared Arthur the most. He wanted the screaming, the exclaiming about the injustice of it all, the crying, the throwing of objects. That was what had happened the first four times she had been given the news of a brother's death.

This time was different.

'It's all right to cry,' Arthur said, worried that she was keeping the emotions bottled up.

'I can't,' Molly whispered. 'My tears have all dried up.'

Arthur tried to think of what to say. What could he say, when Molly had lost more than most in this war? Arthur's two brothers were safe and sound, for the time being. Platitudes would make him into nothing but a hypocrite. And if there was one thing that the Weasleys had left, it was their moral integrity.

'I can't do this anymore, Arthur,' Molly spoke up, turning to face her husband with large brown eyes. 'I can't let you go to the Ministry every day, wondering who we can trust, wondering if it's safe, wondering if you're never coming back.'

'I understand,' Arthur's mouth twitched into a ghost of a smile before returning to its previously downturned state.

'No, Arthur, you don't understand,' Molly's voice became stronger. 'I wouldn't say this if it were just me. But we have Bill. We have Charlie. We have Percy. And… we have another life to think about.' Her hand went instinctively to her stomach.

Arthur's stomach clenched. He was overjoyed at the idea of another child, but the deaths of Gideon and Fabian still weighed there as heavy as a stone. Above all was the guilt, overbearing guilt that sent his insides roiling, unable to cope with so many emotions at once. How could he be happy at a time like this?

He looked towards his wife, unsure as how to respond. Was it safe for him to express his pleasure? Or would she be disappointed, thinking that he didn't want the new child? He settled for placing his hand over hers, on top of the new life. For where there was life, there was always hope.

'I _understand_ ,' he said again, his voice stronger this time. 'We'll go to Dumbledore. He said that the Burrow was too open for a Secret Keeper, but surely, there must be something that can be done.'

* * *

'I can't thank you enough, Alastor,' Arthur said again, wringing the Auror's hand.

'No thanks needed,' Moody growled, regret tingeing his voice. 'The Prewetts were good men. Not many can withstand Dolohov, and they took down three of the bastards with them. He was the one that gave me this, you know.' He indicated the gnarled stump of wood in the place of his leg. He shook his head, jutting his chin out. 'Fine men. Remember, this isn't foolproof. Always be wary. Never give out your real surname. Keep one eye open, even when you're sleeping. Constant vigilance!'

'I'll remember this, Alastor, I swear it,' Arthur maintained, trying to pour as much gratitude as he could into those words.

Moody merely grunted, watching Arthur get into the car until he was nothing but a speck in the distance.

Arthur still didn't know what kind of strings Alastor Moody and Dumbledore had pulled to get him this position. It was one that many wizarding families would die for, or more specifically one they would die without.

The Misuse of Magical Artefacts Office had several positions offered that were key to understanding the way new Muggle technology worked. Whilst there was no risk of Voldemort's followers using Muggle weaponry, the Office had their hands full with tampered or cursed Muggle objects. The trouble was, no one really knew if a device had been tampered with until they knew exactly what the purpose of the artefact was in the first place.

As such, the Ministry sent out a few wizards to live as Muggles for several years of their lives, to learn all they could about the most recent advances in Muggle technology. They would gather information and then rejoin the wizarding world with detailed reports and evidence of untampered devices. The jobs were usually well-paid to give more incentive to wizards to take up the hard life, but recently the Office had been flooded with demand. To live in the Muggle world was to live one step removed from the war that ravaged their lives. Especially when even the purebloods were targeted.

And Arthur had landed one of the coveted positions.

* * *

As the car pulled up in front of the thatched cottage, Arthur turned around to face the backseat, leaning an arm against his headrest. Percy was asleep in Molly's arms, whereas Bill was staring out of the window, his seven-year-old face still as he observed his surroundings. Charlie was playing with one of the Muggle toys the Ministry had found for them, a red truck with a white ladder atop it. Arthur remembered it being called a _fire engine_ in his Muggle Studies class.

'Remember boys, no talk of magic,' Molly warned, catching Arthur's eye, before giving her children a stern look. 'It's a secret now.'

Bill nodded solemnly. As if to spite his brother, Charlie gave a wide grin and imitated Bill's nod. 'Is it a game?'

'Yes, Charlie, it's a game,' Arthur replied hurriedly as a thought occurred to him. He ignored the impatient Ministry worker in the driver's seat as he turned around properly. 'In fact, when we get inside, everyone will be given a puzzle. The first one to understand their puzzle wins, okay?'

'Okay!' Charlie shouted eagerly, pushing at his brother's shoulder to get out.

Quickly, Bill opened the door, and with one look back at his father as if to say "I don't believe you", he ran out of the car, racing Charlie to the front door.

'Was that a good idea, Arthur?' Molly asked worriedly.

'Yes,' Arthur replied, sure of his response. 'It'll take their mind off things.'

All too soon, they were at the front door of their new home. Arthur put the bags down to fiddle with the keys, unused to having a house locked with something other than wards.

'Hey there!' a feminine voice called from behind them.

Molly and Arthur turned on cue, the latter's heart pounding. _Don't be silly, Arthur,_ he told himself. _A Death Eater would never call out before coming for your family. The only warning you would have would be the Dark Mark, floating in the sky…_ He shook his head of dark thoughts, stepping forward to shake hands with the woman.

She was dressed in trousers. Arthur tried not to stare. He had heard that trousers were becoming more fashionable for women - of course, Molly had scoffed at the idea - but this particular specimen was even odder, flaring at the shins to cover her shoes.

'Arthur,' he introduced himself as a distraction. 'Arthur W… Weston.'

'I'm Linda,' she replied with a large smile. 'I noticed you on my way back from my morning jog and thought I'd welcome you to the neighbourhood; we don't get many new arrivals in our little village.' She gestured to his outfit. 'Big fan of the Beatles?'

Arthur supposed her remark was supposed to be an icebreaker. He looked down at his white shirt and thin black tie, covered by a striped blazer. Was this no longer the fashion?

Linda no longer seemed to expect a reply, having moved on to greet the kids, cooing over baby Percy. Arthur glanced at Molly's clothes. She had enjoyed wearing mini-skirts during their time at Hogwarts, but in her pregnancies, she preferred the looser, more colourful "hippy" clothing. Apparently, that was still acceptable, as Linda exclaimed something about loving Molly's dress.

Making a mental note to find out what Muggle men were wearing these days, Arthur went back to finding the right keys. Muggle Studies hadn't prepared him for this, for the _interaction_ that would be required.

As if sensing her husband's unease, Molly made her excuses about being tired from the journey, promising Linda that they should get to know one another soon. And then they were in. Arthur's first fully functional Muggle house.

'Daddy, Daddy!' Charlie burst out immediately. 'Where are our puzzles?'

Even Bill, who watched his parents suspiciously with eyes too wise for his age, looked up curiously. Suddenly, Arthur remembered his promise from the car. He gathered one boy in each arm as Molly shut the door, giving the growing family the privacy they needed.

'Your Daddy's on an important mission for the Ministry, boys,' Arthur said, his lips curving upwards. Nothing put a smile on his face like his children. 'And I need your help. Bill, I need you to find out what a talking walkie is. Apparently, it's the latest Muggle craze. Charlie, you find me a floppy disk.'

'What's a floppy disk?' Charlie asked, scrunching up his nose.

'Never you mind,' Molly said, intervening before Arthur got too out of hand. 'Your father's just teasing. Go outside, play! It's a nice day, and you shouldn't be cooped up in here after the car journey. Be sure to stay where we can see you!' she called, as the boys ran back out of the door before she had even finished speaking.

* * *

Three months later, Arthur Weasley was wearing a pair of bright blue bell-bottoms, along with a paisley green top that he had picked out himself. Molly said it clashed horribly with his hair, but Arthur didn't care. He felt on top of the world, enjoying the latest Muggle trends as he slipped into the Muggle way of life.

Of course, it wasn't easy with a baby on the way - or two, in fact, as they had found out. Molly was exhausted before midday, and they had no household spells to help them out. On the bright side, the Ministry had lent them a temporary fund, and Arthur was happily on his way home in his new Ford Anglia - the colour matched his trousers.

He felt a little guilty about spending so much, but Molly had reminded him that there was no point to a driving licence without a car. Plus, it was the one thing they would be allowed to bring back once they returned to the Burrow.

Besides, he had a surprise for his wife, as well. She had enjoyed the dishwasher last month. Arthur couldn't wait for her to discover the clothes-washer.

Molly was waiting for him on the porch when he came home. As he rolled into the driveway, she got to her feet, calling and clapping. Flushed with joy, Arthur accidentally put the brakes on too late, shattering a flower pot with the car bonnet.

 _Oops,_ he thought.

'Arthur!' Molly cried happily, rushing to embrace him. The radiant mother before him was a far cry from the worried woman with permanent frown lines that used to greet him during the war.

 _During the war,_ Arthur thought. _As though it were over. I mustn't let myself forget the wizarding world, as tempting as that might be._

'Don't forget that the Pullmans are coming in an hour,' Molly was saying, shaking him out of his thoughts.

'Of course not dear.'

In fact, he had completely forgotten.

* * *

'Hi!' Linda exclaimed, hugging Molly. 'Wow, you're so big! How many months along are you now?'

'Five,' Molly smiled, before turning to the Pullmans' little girl. 'Anna, Charlie and Bill are getting juice if you want to join them.'

She nodded, skipping into the kitchen as Phillip, Linda's husband, shook hands with Arthur, presenting him with a bottle of wine.

'I see you have a new addition to your kitchen,' he said, peering around as they walked through to the dining room.

'Oh yes, the clothes-washer works very well,' Arthur grinned. 'Amazing, really, the things people invent! Quite extraordinary.'

Phil looked a little uneasy, but he was saved by Linda's exclamation. 'Oh yes, having a washing machine really changes things! Phil doesn't realise it, but it shaves off a lot of time. Now that you have one, Molly, do you think you'll go back to work?'

'I don't think so,' Molly replied, her face settling into a frown. 'Of course, I'm grateful that Arthur bought us the clothes… washing machine, but I don't think I could leave the boys on their own.'

'Nonsense!' Linda replied with a laugh and a flick of her wrist. 'That's what babysitters are for.'

Molly and Arthur shared a look, but said nothing. Sensing that the situation was getting awkward, Linda began to talk about the children. This lasted them until halfway through the meal, when Phil broke through a lull in the conversation.

'So what prompted you to move here? In all of the time that we've known each other, I don't think I've ever asked,' he mentioned jovially, taking another slice of garlic bread.

Arthur's smile froze on his face.

'Our previous house was getting a little small with a baby on the way,' Molly explained simply, though Arthur noticed that the hand clasping her water glass was white.

'That's not true, Mummy,' Bill spoke up, setting his fork of spaghetti down on his plate. He frowned, his lower lip trembling as he turned to their guests. 'It's because of the bad men,' he whispered.

Phil's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline.

'The bad men?' he asked cautiously.

'The bad men,' Bill confirmed seriously. 'They were going to kill us.'

'Kill you?' Phil echoed, aghast as he turned to the Weasleys. 'What kind of ideas have you been putting in your childrens' heads? Boys, I'm sure that it was just another game.'

'Phil,' Linda said warningly, her narrow face unnaturally stern.

'It's true!' Charlie yelled, pushing away from the table and glaring at Phil. 'Dey killed Unca Gideon and Unca Fabian.'

Arthur knew that he should reprimand his son for his behaviour, but he didn't have the heart to. In fact, he was proud of his brave little son, standing up for the truth. If there were more Charlies in the world, it would be a better place.

'Anna, darling, would you go and fetch the cake?' Linda asked her daughter, brushing a hand against one of her pigtails.

'But we haven't even finished eating yet,' Anna complained, aware that something was happening.

'I know, dear, but I think you and Charlie are ready for dessert, aren't you?' the older woman motioned towards her daughter's empty plate. 'You might have time enough to play more if you eat quickly.'

That got Anna going, and she quickly tugged at Charlie's sleeve for him to join her. Charlie hesitated, caught between the injustice of Phil's remarks and the pull for sugary treats. In the end, the cake won out and he followed her into the kitchen.

'Bill…?' Molly asked. 'Would you mind checking that your brother and Anna don't cut themselves with the knives?'

Bill gave them each a long look, as if to say that he knew exactly what his mother meant and that he wasn't very impressed. Still, he did not fuss, and sloped off into the kitchen to join the others.

'Look, I'm so sorry,' Phil said as soon as Bill closed the door behind him. 'I thought this was one of the games Arthur and the kids play, and it really wasn't fair of me to say that.'

'No, it wasn't,' Arthur said shortly. He knew that he was the mild-mannered one of the couple, that people said Molly walked all over him, but there were some lines one shouldn't cross.

'What happened?' Linda asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. 'Are you in trouble?'

One look at her distraught face told Arthur that he was being unduly harsh. _She may be a busybody, but she's a busybody with good intentions,_ he thought. _And that should be good enough for me._

'It's hard to explain,' he replied, fudging for time. In reality, he had no idea what to say, where to start. All he knew was that it couldn't be the truth.

'Is it the IRA?' she asked in a hushed whisper.

Arthur vaguely remembered Barty Crouch talking about how the Muggles believed the war were in fact terror attacks by some group or other.

'Yes,' he chanced, seizing the explanation. 'Fabian and Gideon were… police officers. We were worried the… IRA… would come after us next.'

'I don't know how the children found out,' Molly whispered, glancing back at the shut door. 'We were so careful.'

'Children will always find out, somehow or another,' Linda reassured Molly, walking around the table to squeeze her arm. 'Now I know why you're so against going to work. I can only imagine what you're going through.'

Molly gave a half-hearted smile, not looking up from her plate.

'Well, if you need to talk, or need anything at all,' Phil said, nodding his head resolutely. 'We're only a door away. Come by anytime. Our door is always open.'

'Thank you,' Arthur replied. 'I mean it.'

Muggles truly were extraordinary.


End file.
